Shuurai
patreon
[FT: O King of the Fairies] Chapter 98
🕑 Added 2025-05-31 15:03:03 +0000 UTCChapter 98
As we headed down the corridor toward the main hall, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Irene looked at me. Like she was trying to memorize the moment, like part of her was still afraid it wasn’t real.
She was tough—scary, even. She was feared across the continent, the mother of enchantment itself. And yet now she was here, barefoot in one of my spare guest rooms, wrapped in soft robes, letting herself feel something again.
Not for the world. Not for Zeref.
But…. for herself.
I was halfway through chopping vegetables when I heard footsteps behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know who.
“I thought you might want help,” Irene said, her voice light, almost playful.
“You cook?” I asked over my shoulder.
She walked past me, fingers trailing along the counter. “I used to. A very long time ago.” She paused. “Though I won’t claim it was any good.”
I smirked. “Well, if you poison me, I always have a Phoenix Down ready.”
She gave me an amused glance as she started washing some greens in the basin. “You and your strange words again.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“Too late,” I said with a grin. “You’re in the Aiden Zone now. No refunds.”
She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips didn’t fade.
Truthfully, I could’ve summoned dinner from the Celestial Inventory. Or even asked the fortress’s golems to prep an entire banquet in five minutes flat. But there were times when I just liked cooking myself.
We cooked together in that comfortable rhythm for a while. Occasionally, our hands would brush when reaching for the same thing, and each time she’d glance up, and I’d pretend not to notice—but I did. Every time. And I knew she noticed too.
By the time the meal was ready—just roasted meat, sautéed vegetables, and fresh bread—I noticed how Irene’s demeanor shifted. She was still elegant, still composed, but there was a strange nervousness in the way she sat down, hands fidgeting slightly as I placed the plate in front of her.
Then, she took her first bite.
And froze.
I watched her closely. Her eyes widened faintly, and her lips parted as she blinked, slowly, as if stunned by the sensation.
“Irene?” I asked.
She didn’t answer at first. She set the fork down carefully, like it was something fragile. Her hands trembled.
“I can taste it,” she whispered, almost like it was blasphemy. “The salt. The herbs. The heat. The texture…”
I didn’t interrupt.
“It’s been centuries,” she said, voice thickening. “I’ve had meals. I’ve eaten. But nothing… nothing ever tasted like this.” She looked down at her plate like it was some sacred thing. “Everything used to feel like ash. Like shadows of memories on my tongue. I’d forgotten what this was like.”
She pressed a hand gently to her lips, her eyes glistening.
“I’m human again,” she breathed.
I didn’t know what to say to that. Not really. So I just nodded and reached for the bread, passing it to her without a word.
She took it gently. Our fingers brushed again.
That time, neither of us looked away.
Later that night, as I cleaned up, I found myself standing on the balcony overlooking the lands beyond Fortress Leonhart. The stars were bright. The sky, clear. For once, the world felt… peaceful.
Behind me, I heard the door creak.
Irene stepped out, wrapped in a light shawl. Her hair shimmered under the moonlight, and when she stopped beside me, she didn’t say anything.
We just stood there, side by side, looking out at the quiet together.
Then, barely louder than the breeze, she whispered, “Thank you for letting me stay.”
I turned to her. “You’re welcome here. As long as you want.”
She looked up at me then, eyes deep with something I couldn’t quite name—but I felt it all the same. It was in the way she lingered beside me, the way her fingers brushed against mine again, a little longer this time.
She wouldn’t say it.
But I didn’t need her to.
I already knew.
—
The next morning came quietly.
Irene had already risen by the time I got up, sitting by the balcony wrapped in one of the long, warm cloaks the golems had tailored for guests.
She didn’t say much but just gave me a soft look, one of those wordless greetings that said more than good morning ever could.
After a quick breakfast, I walked over to the console in my study and activated the message lacrima. The crystal glowed, and Erza’s sleepy face flickered into view.
"Aiden?" she blinked blearily. "You’re up early… what’s wrong? Did Simon blow something up again?"
"Unfortunately, no. He’s due for another incident soon, though. Anyway, I need you to come to Fortress Leonhart. Alone. It’s important."
She sat up straighter immediately, all signs of drowsiness gone. "Is this about something urgent?"
"Sort of. Just come, Red. You’ll understand when you get here."
The connection faded. Ten minutes later, I heard the faint sound of footsteps echoing from outside, the familiar sound of Erza’s approach.
I opened the door to find her standing there, looking as confident as ever, though her brow furrowed slightly in curiosity.
“What’s going on, Aiden?” she said.
I stepped aside and led her down the corridor. She followed without a word.
“I need to show you something,” I said, my voice low. “It’s not dangerous, but it’s important.”
Erza glanced at me, clearly curious, but held her tongue. She trusted me, and I could tell that she was keeping her questions at bay for the moment.
When we reached the guest wing, I stopped in front of a door. “She’s inside.”
Erza arched a brow. “She?”
I opened the door slowly, and I motioned for Erza to step inside.
Without saying anything more, I stepped aside and gave them the room to talk, leaving them alone to face this unexpected reunion. The door clicked softly behind me, and I let them have their moment.
—
The room was quiet for a moment after the door shut, leaving Erza and Irene alone. The atmosphere was thick with uncertainty as the two women stood facing each other—Erza’s expression a mix of confusion and cautious curiosity, while Irene’s gaze held a softness, a tenderness that spoke of a time long past.
Erza’s brow furrowed as she studied the woman before her. The familiarity of her face, the faintly haunting look in her eyes, stirred something deep within her, something that felt almost like a memory, one she couldn’t quite place.
And then, as if a fog lifted, a realization dawned on her.
“You…” Erza’s voice faltered for a split second. Her breath caught, a distant memory surfacing of a time when she was trapped in that godforsaken tower, desperate and lost. “You were with Aiden when he saved us… back then, in the Tower of Heaven.”
Irene’s lips curved into a subtle, bittersweet smile, her eyes softening as if she could see the memory clear as day. “Yes,” she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of sadness and something else—regret? Nostalgia? “I was.”
“Thank you,” Erza said, breaking the silence at last. Her voice was soft but sincere. “For helping us. For saving us from the Tower of Heaven.” She could still remember the hellish days spent within those walls, the endless suffering she and her friends had endured.
The woman before her—this mysterious figure who had been with Aiden—was part of that salvation. And though the memories were painful, Erza still felt a deep sense of gratitude. “I don't know what would have happened to us without you.”
Irene’s eyes softened at Erza's words, and for a moment, her expression wavered with emotion. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as if steadying herself for something monumental.
“I did what I had to,” Irene replied quietly. Her voice trembled slightly, but she masked it with determination. “But there is more I need to tell you.”
Erza tilted her head, noticing the change in Irene’s demeanor. There was something in the way the woman spoke, something that felt heavier than just gratitude. The pause hung in the air like a storm about to break.
Irene took a step closer, her eyes locking with Erza's. “I didn’t just help you... There's something you need to know....”
Erza blinked, the confusion only deepening. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice sharp with the hint of concern now creeping in.
Irene inhaled slowly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She reached up to gently touch the pendant around her neck, a quiet moment of reflection. "Erza... I... I’m your mother."
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop around them.
Erza stood frozen, her eyes wide with shock. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to form a response, but nothing came out. The weight of Irene’s words crashed into her, and she took a hesitant step back, as if trying to process what she had just heard. “W-What? No, that’s... that can’t be true. You’re... you’re not... my mother.”
Irene closed the distance between them, her face full of sorrow. “I know it’s hard to believe. I wasn’t able to be there for you, not when you needed me the most. But I am your mother, Erza. And I’ve carried the weight of that every day since the moment you were born.”
Erza’s chest tightened, and she shook her head. The realization was too much to bear. The pain, the confusion—it was all a whirlwind inside her.
“But why?” Her voice cracked, raw and trembling. “Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you come for me? Why did you abandon me?!”
Irene flinched, as if every word Erza spoke was a blade to the heart. Her eyes glistened—not with pride or magic, but with an ache that had festered for centuries.
“I wanted to,” she whispered. “Gods, Erza… I wanted to so badly. But I wasn’t… myself. I was cursed. I... I wasn’t human anymore. I wasn’t me. Warped by the very magic I once mastered.”
She took a trembling breath and stepped closer, slowly, cautiously—as though afraid Erza might vanish.
“I carried you while that curse twisted me from the inside. I wasn’t just losing my body, I was losing my soul. There were nights where I’d lose control, where I’d… almost hurt you.” Her voice cracked, eyes wide with haunted memories.
Erza’s breath caught.
“I couldn’t live with the thought of becoming that monster. I knew if I stayed near you, it would happen again… or worse. That one day, I might truly lose control—and kill the only person I ever loved.”
Irene turned away, her shoulders trembling.
“So I left you… at Rosemary Village. I hoped that someone kind would find you. That you’d live a normal life. But fate is cruel, and it took you to the Tower of Heaven.”
Erza’s tears finally spilled over, her fists trembling. “I suffered! I fought tooth and nail to survive! I cried for a mother who never came!”
Irene flinched as if the words themselves had drawn blood. Her lips parted, but no sound came. What could she say that would ever be enough?
"I know," she finally managed, her voice barely a whisper. "And I hated myself for every second of it."
She turned slowly, facing Erza again—no longer the proud sorceress, but a woman stripped down to her regrets.
“I watched,” Irene said, her eyes shimmering. “Helpless. From the shadows. I saw what they did to you. I wanted to burn that tower to ash, to tear it down with my bare hands. Only Aiden was there first.”
Erza blinked, her breath hitching as the name passed Irene’s lips.
Irene nodded, her eyes shimmering. “He did what I couldn’t. What I… should have.”
Erza’s fists trembled. “And you were there. That day. I remember seeing you too, just a glimpse… you stood beside him, didn’t you?”
A breath caught in Irene’s throat. “Yes. I was there. I stood in the shadows. I saw you—my daughter—standing free, bloodied but unbroken. I wanted to run to you… but I couldn’t.”
“Because I didn’t deserve to.”
Erza flinched.
“I stood there… barely able to breathe, seeing you alive, free… and I felt this overwhelming urge to reach out. To hold you. To say your name. But I was a coward, Erza.” Her eyes lifted, wet and glassy. “I was cursed. Twisted. I’d nearly taken your life once without even realizing it. That darkness—it was still inside me. Lurking. Whispering. I was afraid that if I touched you… I’d ruin everything.”
Erza stared, unable to speak.
“I thought I’d forfeited the right to be your mother long ago,” Irene continued, her voice hollow. “I gave you up. I abandoned you. Even if it was to protect you… I still made that choice. And what kind of mother does that?”
Irene looked away, clutching her arm as though trying to keep herself together. “When I saw Aiden reaching out to you, when I saw the way you looked at him… I knew. You were safe. You had someone who would protect you the way I should have. I told myself that was enough.”
Her voice dropped into a whisper. “I wanted to run to you… but I didn’t deserve it. Not then. Maybe not now.”
Erza took a hesitant step forward, her gaze locked onto Irene’s trembling form. “So… you just watched?”
Irene nodded slowly. “Every step of the way. From the shadows. When you grew stronger, when you stood tall with that sword in hand, when you fought for others the way no one fought for you… I was there. Never close enough to touch you, but always watching. Always wishing.”
The words landed like stone in Erza’s chest. It was too much—too close to the ache she’d carried her whole life. The pain of being alone, of never knowing why.
“But I wanted a mother,” she whispered. “Even when I said I didn’t care. Even when I acted like I was fine. I wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything would be okay.”
Irene’s chest tightened, her heart breaking all over again as she saw the raw pain in Erza’s eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. There was nothing left to say—nothing that could undo the past, nothing that could fix the hurt.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Erza took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her hands were shaking, and the pain inside felt unbearable.
“I can’t do this right now,” she muttered, her voice low, barely audible. “I need time. I need to think.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the room, walking briskly down the corridor, away from Irene, away from everything.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Irene alone, trembling in the silence. She collapsed onto the floor, her face buried in her hands as the weight of the moment pressed down on her. The sobs wracked her body, quiet and broken.
Aiden, who had been standing just outside, watched the door close before turning and stepping into the room. His footsteps were silent on the stone floor as he approached Irene, crouching beside her.
He didn’t speak at first, just sat with her, giving her the time to gather herself. He had seen the walls she had built up around herself—seen how she had struggled with her past, and now… the guilt she carried.
“Irene,” he finally said softly, his voice steady. “She needs time. And so do you.”
Irene didn’t respond at first, but after a moment, she slowly lifted her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn’t say anything, but Aiden could see the weight of her sorrow in her eyes.
“She’s angry, Aiden,” she whispered. “And she has every right to be.”
Aiden nodded. “She does. But she’ll process it. And when she’s ready, she’ll come to you. Just don’t give up on her now.”
Irene’s lips trembled, and she looked down at her hands, still shaking. “I’m scared. Scared that I don’t deserve her forgiveness, that she’ll never see me as her mother. That I’ll only ever be the woman who abandoned her.”
“You’re not the woman who abandoned her anymore,” Aiden said firmly, his tone full of reassurance. “You’re here. And you’re trying. That’s what matters now. Everything else, it will come with time.”
Irene gave him a small, broken smile, the kind that only hinted at the years of hurt and longing. “Thank you, Aiden. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
Aiden reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
She nodded, swallowing hard as she stood up, still trying to steady her breathing. “I just... want her to understand.”
“I know,” Aiden said, his gaze softening as he stood with her. “And she will. But right now, you both need time. To heal. To talk. Don’t rush it.”
With a deep breath, Irene finally nodded. She stepped away from Aiden, her eyes fixed on the door where Erza had left. “I just hope she’ll give me the chance.”
Aiden offered a quiet smile, his hand still resting on her shoulder. “She will.”
For now, though, they both had to wait. Time was the only thing that could heal the wounds between them.
